Tell me something I don't know, you used to wish, a bit, a pinch, let it snow; three days I still couldn't grow. Look me in my face, is there something I should know? Marry me? A yes, maybe no, I couldn't believe the response. I refuse to grow. A time, a moment, something I should hold. Reverence, none. Shame. Love. What have I done?
I missed you. I missed me. This isn't love it's not healthy.
I missed you. I missed me. This isn't love it's not healthy.
Moments, just moments: they weren't what they were. They shouldn't have been, what we thought they should've. A touch of skin. A fragrance shared. Something that we craved but should've never shared. True not in body but even in mind, it was wrong. I can't fix my soul if we continue this song.
I missed you. I missed me. This isn't love it's not healthy.
I missed you. I missed me. This isn't love it's not healthy.
YOU ARE READING
Lackluster writing...bad writer.
PoetryConfessional poems. These are how I feel about myself and the things around me. These poems mean a lot to me. I may not be a good writer but I wanted at least anonymously to share them.
